A Little Bit Of Good
by MakeASong
Summary: Grimsley's life is pretty messed up, as shown in this series of vignettes coming together to create one large story. I guess it's minor caitlin and grimsley shipping. Please remember to review.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"I don't like him."

"Hush."

Grimsley and Caitlin sat in a small room in the building of the Unovian Elite Four, watching a tv, with a battle against Marshal on the screen.

"A Dunsparce? What the hell is a Dunsparse?" Grimsley spoke out, to no one in particular.

The battle wasn't very interesting. Grimsley and Caitlin often sat and watched the other battles when they had been defeated or were waiting for their turn. Sometimes battles would last five minutes, the elite four members completely flooring the innocent trainers. Other times, battles would last up to a half-hour, putting pressure on everyone, the trainer and the elite four. This was not one of those times.

"You think he would know better. A water type, really, don't make me laugh." Grimsley smirked at the trainer that was shown on the screen before him, sinking deeper into defeat.

"He certainly isn't doing that well. His personality is quite uncouth, and he should really be training his pokemon better." Caitlin added.

The trainer was clearly not thinking. After seeing his Basculin nearly being crushed by a much more experienced Throh, he forfeited the battle. Marshal looked annoyed, most likely because he hated battling trainers who were complete idiots. Grimsley and Caitlin couldn't help laughing at their ticked off friend.

Grimsley was hoping that the trainer was the last of the day, he couldn't take any more foolish people. Caitlin was, awkwardly, thinking about tacos. It should be noted that elite four members have a very long day on the job, and Catilin did not have enough time for a lunch break.

"Jeez, Cait, Battling sure has been stupid lately." Grimsley told his Caitlin, as she was gathering her things.

"You're putting it mildly. I haven't met one trainer who knows the value of pokemon in months." Caitlin agreed with Grimsley.

"So, what're you doing tonight?" Grimsley put his arms around Caitlin, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"What are you doing?" she laughed, gently removing his arms from her body.

"Just trying to make you feel comfortable, is all." Grimsley grinned.

"Well I was already feeling well, but thank you for the concerns," Caitlin reassured him, "And I'm probably just going to do some scrapbooking. You know, pictures of Marill."

"Ah yes, that. Why don't you scrapbook pictures of people? Of life?" Grimsley asked her, enjoying her company.

"Because, it's much better living it then looking at it." she said contently, which ended the conversation there.

Grimsley and Caitlin were just friends, co-workers, never closer then that. Although she had never admitted it, she always wished that Grimsley and her were better friends. She hardly ever talked to him out side of the Elite Four. She wasn't even quite sure where he lived. They always joked around at work that they were dating, which wasn't the case at all. They never fooled around, which is like joking around, but taking it to the next step.

She always wondered why he was only nice to her.

"Goodnight Cait." Grimsley told her, as he left the room and headed for home, not even waiting for her response.

...

Grimsley lived in a secluded house on the east side of Opelucid. He lived a quiet and ordinary life, read many books, and was alone.

Alone.

Grimsley didn't want to think of that. He had his pokemon, right? Grimsley got home that day, made tea, fed his pokemon, sat in a comfy chair in his study, and read. Grimsley read every night, and he wasn't very dark for a Dark trainer. He was very optimistic about a lot of things. He didn't enjoy many people, he often grew bored with them. He often read the work of the late, great Professor Oak. "Such a brilliant scientist," Grimsley would often say. And Grimsley would often fall asleep with a book in his lap, and his Liepard at his feet.

And then Grimsley would wake up.

Grimsley would go to work at the elite four, and being the fashionable trainer he was, got high respect for it. He would get trainers everyday, and they would be nothing but flies, flies that he could easily flick away. Every now and then a fly was a mosquito, and he would lose the battle. But in the end, the champion was always invincible.

Then after a long day of battles, he would go home. And make him a cup of tea, and read, sleep.

Then he would wake up, go to work, come home, make tea, read, sleep.

Then he would wake up, go to work, come home, tea, read, sleep.

Grimsley's mind was telling him that this had better come to a stop. His life was just a car and going nowhere, and fast. Why was it always books, never the outdoors? He needed something; he wasn't anything. He needed someone; he wasn't anyone.

Grimsley couldn't tolerate all the air he had.

He did something different one day. Instead of coming home and immediately starting up a pot of tea, he went to his bathroom, and stared at himself in the mirror. He saw a young man, someone with promise; he had life he needed to live. His black hair always sticking upwards, his coat that he got at an old store in Hiun, his tantalizing aqua eyes. He vowed he would change his lifestyle. He promised he would stop being secluded and rude everyone.

And then he went and got his book and his tea, and read.

...

"Liepard, Night Slash."

Liepard jumped elegantly into the air and landed a slash right across the foe Zweilouses face's. The Zweilous fell over and fainted on the spot. Grimsley couldn't help but laugh at the fallen creature. The trainer rushing to its aid. Grimsley had to give the trainer credit for not giving up till the end And he had to admit, he certainly had some skill.

"You put up a good fight, but your defenses were down. Come back when you've-"

"You jerk! My pokemon are in the top percentage of all pokemon around!"

"Get out."

...

"I don't get it Caitlin. I just don't understand. The great Professor Oak said that fifty years ago, battles were more skillful, required more understanding." Grimsley complained to Caitlin, who was trying to listen. Her hair muffled anything people tried to say to her.

"Well, what're you going to do?" Caitlin asked Grimsley, and silence filled the room.

"All I'm saying is," Grimsley continued after a long pause, "is that battling isn't what it used to be."

"Well, ok." Caitlin simply said.

"Ok. Ok? Do you really think it's ok-"

"I'm not saying it's ok! I'm just saying there is little we can do about it. So that's that." Caitlin defended herself.

Grimsley couldn't argue with that. So he simply put his hand on Caitlin's hand, and he watched the battle unfolding on the screen before them. Caitlin stared at him the entire time.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, if you are just joining us now, let me just say I'm honored that you took the time to read my story._

Chapter** 2  
><strong>

You know, this one time in the third grade, though looking back on it now it might've been the second grade…no, I'm positive it was the third grade. Well we were given this assignment where we were supposed to draw a picture of what we wanted to be when we grew up. Well everyone was drawing the usual, you know: astronauts, fire fighters, princesses, and pokémon trainers, all that crap. I sat at my table looking around the room at everyone, confused. Then the teacher walked over to my table and with her sickeningly grotesque flab and her shiny red shoes. She asked me, "Oh Grimsley, what would you like to be when you grow up? Why, you haven't even started drawing yet!" Well I told her, "Nothing." That's right, nothing. She told me that wouldn't do, and I would have to figure out very soon so I could draw the picture. I was confused, and I just didn't know what to do. I mean, really, that was exactly what I wanted to do. Nothing. Why put pressure on a child by asking them "What do you want to be when you grow up?" You're a child, and you shouldn't have to worry about that. Clearly that woman didn't understand, well anyway, how I disposed of her was super….

….

"Caitlin!"

"Grimsley?"

"Caitlin!"

Caitlin quickly rushed into the men's restroom of the pokémon league building. A terrified Grimsley stood at one of sinks, his arms stretched out, keeping his hands away from his body.

"We're out of soap! We're out of sanitation!" Grimsley screeched like a little girl with the most horrible of ear infections.

"Really? I swear Grimsley, I can't believe a man like you would act like this over a little soap."

"Are you saying I'm bad because I want to be clean? Is that what you're saying?" Grimsley shouted at her, his piercing blue eyes fixated on hers.

"No, that would be stupid. You're overreacting, seriously, come on."

"You're overreacting! What if I get a virus? I COULD DIE!" Grimsley was enraged more then ever, his arms flailing in Caitlin's direction, his voice a thunderous echo in the enclosed restroom.

"Would it change a thing?"

"What?"

Everything was black, spinning around him, he was spinning; he could feel it. Caitlin and the restroom had disappeared and now he was in an abyss. But her voice still rang in his ear.

_Would it change a thing?  
>Would it change a thing?<br>Would it?  
>Would it?<br>Would it?  
>Would it?<br>Would-_

Grimsley gasped for air and awoke. Covered in sweat, he stared around his room. Leipard, sitting on a chair in the corner, was sound asleep. Nothing but the ticking of a clock encompassed the air. The window shone a clear, faint moonlight onto the bed. An open book was lying on the edge, sheets were strewn out all over the bed. Grimsley slumped back down, his slender body going up and down with each heavy breath he took. He stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night, not even bothering to wash the blood off of his hands.

...


	3. Chapter 3

_Don't worry, all these vignettes connect together in the long run.  
><em>  
><strong>A Little Bit of Good, Chapter 3<strong>

"Grimsley, are you nervous?"

"No, why would I be nervous?"

"Are you nervous here?"

"No."

"Then get off my desk."

…..

Ugh. How does this happen? I mean all my life I thought the space I had was not enough. Now looking at this closet full of junk and scrapbooks, I can't help think that my life has got to be more than the sum of this stuff. Clear it all out, Caitlin, it's not worth anything. You live in Unova now, you have to leave Sinnoh behind. This sudden shift is kind of big, it's like a whole new region's moving in. You just have to throw away most of the useless stuff and just save the stuff that really matters.

You're a big girl now Caitlin, you can do things on your own now. You can even speak without someone having to give you the courage. Think about how much more happy you'll be if you can breathe. Remember breathing? Breathing was fun. You can't breathe and have fun in a stuffed little apartment. Ha, me, having fun again, it's so funny it makes me want to burst into tears and throw myself out the window. I need to let these things go. These piles of unread books packed in this box, you know, just in case…just in case of what? Arceus, help me with this please…

….

Grimsley looked down at the drink in his hand. Green tea as always, no added

sugar or milk or honey or anything. It was just tea. The green went on forever, never into another etching color, always a green. But Grimsley knew that nothing ever stayed the same.

He watched the battle unfold on the television before him. The little runt of a trainer wasn't half bad. He had brown hair that complimented his black eyes quite nicely, hair reaching the collar, probably more hiding under the hat with the outline

of a pokeball on the cap. His jacket was of two shades of blue and he wore black trainers pants. Despite having a decent face, he was weak. Not necessarily weak when it came to athleticism, but more so emotionally. It was clear the boy was crying out in pain when he called for his pokémon to make an attack. He couldn't stand seeing them in any sort of pain, and anything that harmed his pokémon could be seen inflicting his complexion.

"Weak," Grimsley said out load, as he took another sip.

"Cameron is doing alright." Caitlin said, looking at the screen.

"You know this boy?"

"Cameron is my nephew." Caitlin said as she absentmindedly stared at the tv, no care for what was going on.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well you didn't ask."

"…."

Cameron had lost by this point, his Throh lying lifeless on the arena floor. Cameron recalled the pokémon and then ran away as fast as he could, running away from his hideous defeat, tears streaming down his face.

"Weak." Grimsley said out load, as he took another sip.

"He'll get better. This isn't like him." Caitlin said as she stared at the tv, showing an empty arena.

"Sure."

"He'll get stronger."

"Of course."

"He's a whisper right now, but soon he'll be a roar."

"How precious."

"I don't care one way or the other." Caitlin said, now practically melted into her chair.

"What's it matter how strong he'll get. The only thing that will count is how people will see him when he's gone. As a winner or a loser, how they will remember him."

"If they remember him." Said Caitlin, now a piece of the scenery as her motionless, emotionless body sat sulked in the chair as pale as herself.

Grimsley stared at her blankly. She was one with the room now, limp and lifeless.

"I'll…go get you your pills now." Grimsley said softly. He didn't move a muscle.

Both of their souls, broken.

…..

All of these years and years of junk and flotsam, piling up inside this closet en route to the sky, and I've had it. Need a plastic souvenir anyone? I got twenty. That's it Caitlin, just let it all go. It needs to go. You can't have a roommate without any space for your roommate to, well, room. What's this, a birthday card? Since when have you told anyone when your birthday is? A pamphlet on an artist from Kanto, a phonebook, a Glaceon pin, a contest ribbon, an expensive knife, a scarf, miles and piles and piles of stuff I should have gotten rid of years ago.

Though somehow I've been petrified to see what's been kept inside these chests and cabinets. I guess it's just really strange finding stuff from a region, or a lifetime ago. It's just…there are things that make you feel you need them so you have proof of where you've been, that you're history is real. That you've lived. And…I can't let these go. Back into boxes they go.

Ugh. How does this happen? I mean, did I tear up my whole apartment just to put it back together again? Caitlin, you'll be fine just get creative with the space. Getting creative it what you do best. Do that so that all of these things fit together and then my whole life can stay in there. But where do I put these shoes? Why can't I be some other Caitlin who can just let things go.

You know, Ms. Perfect, that's not me, I'm going to keep things how they'll always be.

...

"Are you okay, Grimsley?"

"Define okay?"

"You're hands are bleeding."

"That's not my blood."


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm finally proud of the chapter how it is. I think it's the best one yet. Hope you like it! Also, please review._

**A Little Bit of Good- Chapter 4**

It's twelve o' clock in the pitch-black night. I can't contain this wanderlust. Suddenly the world just feels on fire. Like I just want to run outside and discover something new. Gracefully there's the sound of distant thunder that could rapture the souls of a sensitive, fortunate few.

I picked up the book and let it wedge into my hands. Same old, same old.

I couldn't read a single thing in the darkest of nights. And turning on a light Liepard discomfort while sleeping, so I was stuck. This was _just great. _Another sleepless night alone in bed, the sun having already flown. I looked over at the empty spot next to me, where a mistress or a lover used to sit. Suddenly my mind is at a different place…

Two years ago, the 12th of June. That small café, where he appears. I see him first, and there's a smile. I see his eyes, as something new. He's a different kind of man that I haven't seen before. Quiet and reserved, he walked with small strides and this smug, thick grin. He kept his head low while walking, but upon stopping brings his head up to reveal a face like no other. I won't forget. I won't forget.

Something sad is playing on the radio, a boy who lost his girlfriend to a friend, or something. I seem to forget my Caitlin's face. I seem to forget my lovers face. Though I can remember a strangers face. His name is N.

I leave the money, and I don't look back. I walk to the park, and he is there. That brilliant smile, and those emerald shoes. His eyes are green. My eyes dart around.

He says, "Hello."

Suddenly this world feels like another, as if the other finally reached an end. I seem to forget my Caitlin's voice. I seem to forget my lover's voice. But I do remember, I hear his voice, and I want to fly. I want to rise up to the heights of the world. I want to be with him, to feel I am good. I want to be needed. I want to need.

I ask his name. And we kiss. And the angels sigh. And we kiss. And it seems we fly. I feel a high. We kiss. And then it's goodbye.

I don't suppose anything could have been better than what may have been. The sweetest time had been cut short. That day could have been the 12th of June. There could have been his dangerous smile that seemed to caress. And I could have stared at it forever.

The greatest of adventures of my life.

I never had again.

I seem to forget my Caitlin's face. I seem to forget my lover's face. But I can remember what could have been. It has a name….

forget it.

…

Don't think of giving up, Caitlin, don't think of giving in. Don't think of anything but the invincibility of Grimsley Gordon Flynn.

Here I sit in the middle of the room. I don't throw some fit, nor do I start crying. I see nurses flit as they fiddle in his room. What a damn charade, they will never help him.

Grimsley here, Grimsley there, Grimsley pieces everywhere. Pick them up. Glue them on. Too bad, he's good as gone.

I'll call his mother tomorrow I suppose, tell her I'm a friend. Tell her how her Grimsley thought that Grimsley could just end.

What am I saying? The man, he'll be just fine. People go and try to kill themselves, thinking it's time they'd shine. Though I guess I wasn't his fault that the car just went too fast.

Get it together Caitlin. Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright.

Yes, my mind won't expire, for is never has, never will. What am I even saying? Grimsley is a dumb imbecile. It'll be A-Okay. His story's far from complete. He's tough as a tack.

Everything will be alright. Everything will be alright. Everything will be-

"Miss, are you a family member of Mr. Flynn?"

…

"Hey Caitlin, do you ever wander about differences?"

"Differences meaning what?"

Caitlin and Grimsley sat in their usual grey room, with their usual grey chairs, and the usual grey atmosphere. The cold winter that had erupted caused them to turn the AC on full-blast. It was warm and toasty in their hub. Caitlin wore a large, starch white winter sweater and Grimsley his usual attire. Why would someone buy clothes that could only be worn one time of the year, Grimsley thought. Keeping with his traditions was always what Grimsley did best anyways.

"Well, you know, differences meaning, like…decisions."

"Well differences and decisions are two different things, Grimsley." Caitlin responded with a playful tone. She had been more peppy lately. Grimsley tried to ignore it. A change in her attitude meant something had happened, and it might be something Grimsley didn't want to hear.

"I mean the decisions we make. Do you ever wonder what could have happened if you had chosen differently in certain situations?"

"Are we talking big decisions or little decisions? Like what I had for breakfast or when I decided to become a pokémon trainer instead of a stewardess?"

"Yeah, big decisions like that. Wait, you wanted to be a stewardess? Like an airline stewardess?" Grimsley was baffled; he'd never heard this bit of information before.

"Yes I did. But pokémon training actually makes money, so you know, that."

"Huh…well do you ever think about what would have happened if you had become one?"

Caitlin took a moment. She had asked herself that question before. She certainly had done her fair share or self-analyzing. She sighed and released the words, each of them more passionate than the last.

"I would have married a man a little younger than myself. He would have had a nice family. Probably had grown up in one of those nice stone houses in Kanto. A little short, maybe a tad bit a pushover, but in a nice way. Blonde head of hair, long legs, big brain. He would have probably went to some medical college or something. He would have been the breadwinner anyways, because a stewardess doesn't exactly pay like a politician…"

She paused. Took in a long breath.

"He would have probably been some nice professor somewhere at some nice establishment, all the while working on investments, making a fortune. But he'd love that I'm madly in love with him. That's why he'd loved me, because I loved him. I'd appreciate his sensitivity because he was…would have been the first man I'd ever met with some. He would read a lot, same books that I would read. He'd like opera and the theatre and that crap. Nights would have been spent talking about, oh I don't know, Hoenn philosophy, and what was new in literature and things of that sort. And then we would sleep together. It would be quiet. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But the entire time, there would be this little voice in the back of my head wanting something more. Something that wasn't him, that wasn't that life. But hey, I would be happy, or some sort of happy. And every night, it would be Hoenn philosophy and whatever was new in the literature and then quiet sex. And then we might have had kids who could do the same thing when they would grow up. And then we'd die."

Caitlin started at her hands, seemingly fiddling with an invisible object. Grimsley looked at Caitlin in pure fascination. She certainly was an unpredictable woman.

After some time had passed, Caitlin asked Grimsley a question.

"Are there any decisions that you made that you would change, Grimsley?"

Grimsley pondered this question. He knew she would ask it eventually after he brought up the topic. He then picked the only answer that seemed appropriate.

"What does it matter, Caitlin? The Grimsley I'll never be, who remembers him?"


	5. Chapter 5

Well, here we are again. I decided that a lighthearted chapter was a tad needed. Besides, there should be a bit of happiness in this story before it all turns to sad.

A Little Bit of Good- Chapter 5

SUNDAY:

Yes! She said yes! Oh sweet Arceus or Buddha or Mohammad or whatever! The lady must be mad, but that's enough for me. Somewhere a fine painting is missing its radiant leading girl and that is Caitlin. I swear, I thought I would die sitting there eating my corned beef sandwich reading Moliere. I don't know why I asked her, maybe it was because of the awful fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look like they're practically dead or maybe it was the tea that wasn't settling well in my stomach, but I was just

"Hey, we should go out tomorrow."

and she was just

"Yes."

And I just

what.

You're in the money, Grimsley. You best not screw this up because she is your only chance at being happy and who even cares if she has a disorder that causes her to cry on cue or the fact that she doesn't have a male sex organ. She could be _yours.  
><em>  
>I love love.<p>

MONDAY:

It's Monday. It's Monday. We went out. We went out. I like her. I like her! Repetition, ahoy! Good golly, Grimsley, you are a pathetic putrid mess of romantic Jell-O that no one wants to pick up and you'll eventually sink into the floor.

It's Monday, bad day, but good day for us. You ordered coffee, I ordered…wine. You said you liked my scarf and I told you it was designer made and then I felt funny so I stopped talking about me.

Good god I babble too much when I journal. I hope no one ever reads this. Not even after I die some tragic death. The truth is too mushy and romantic comedies play on our real lives way more then they actually should. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. Cait, you make me feel like fireworks. Do you like that analogy? That's not even and analogy. That's a simile. That's how gelatinous you make me feel, but the good kind of gelatinous, the sexy kind.

You wouldn't let me kiss you goodnight. You're my kind of girl, Cait.

TUESDAY:

I called you thrice. Ignored me straight voice mail. I thought I had done something wrong, Cait. I felt like shit. I felt like my father. And I hated myself for it. For twenty three and a half minutes I felt like everything I loved and cherished had burned tragically in a fire and I know it seems likes I'm exaggerating but I'm really not. I felt so scared.

You texted me saying, "I play hard to get."

Um Cait, what?

I got so depressed by your test. It's so unlike you, Cait. It's like this is a whole new side of you. Play hard to get? What, so you've been around the bush a few times?

Ready, set:

You wouldn't let me see you Tuesday or let me kiss you on Monday. And I know that the hopeless romantic stalker that I am cannot handle your ruthless shtick.

Still, I think you're the best. I guess I'm just so juvenile, but I just want to be with you.

WEDNESDAY:

Cold coffee. Some talking. Clean touching.

Wednesday's my hump day, but we just held hands. And drank coffee.

That's right. All we did was got coffee and touch hands for a measly 25 seconds. I swear, Cait if you're trying to tell me something you're doing a really bad job at it.

You wouldn't let me take you out for the day, you told me you had to stay home. So I spent the day exploring museums and admiring art, pretending we were standing together. And yeah, maybe I've gone too far and I'm just saying this out of spite, but my love for you is like a radiant shore, a whispering candle burning through the night.

See that rhyme? I wrote that for you, Cait! And what, you've always given an inch of your time for me. I've always managed to take a mile.

THURSDAY:

Like Tuesday. Time spent away from me.

FRIDAY:

You're busy.

SATURDAY:

What's up with you?

You don't want to kiss me, or see me, or even let me take you out.

So why don't you just let me go? Spare me the misery of another week like this. But then you called me. Out of nowhere you called me.

You said, "I need you to know that you are cute, but juvenile."

I assumed was what I expected. I thought you were breaking up with me, and I mean, what a way to do it. Over the phone, and all. I thought I'd tried too hard, that I had cared too much. Every cliché in the book had hit me in the face. I felt restlessness.

Then you said, "The greatest love takes the longest time."

Why wait, Cait? We haven't got much time. Life is lonely, rotten, and thankfully short. But the one thing that I need in life is you and I've loved you for the longest time and I know I sound like a lunatic right now but without you I can't be whole.

"Please be patient for our one day. I'll see you tomorrow."

I don't have anything more to say.

SUNDAY:

You let me kiss you. You let me kiss you. You let me kiss you.

Be still your foolish, "Please be patient for our one day."

Look, Caitlin. Tis Sunday.

You made this week of hell worth it. You smiled as we descended the stairs and you laughed when I told joke and you made me feel like I was doing everything right. Everything about you is amazing and Grimsley is a new person. A new person who suddenly talks in the third person. I would keep writing but I have to kiss you now.

Til Monday.


End file.
